Out of the Dark (41 page)

“Fleet Commander,” she continued, “I’ve administered all the standard psychological exams. As you directed, I’ve also experimented to determine how responsive to neural education techniques humans might be, and I can report that our neural educators work quite well. Indeed, they work better with humans than with the majority of the Hegemony’s species. But my opinion, based on the admittedly imperfect and incomplete psychological profile I’ve so far been able to construct, suggests to me that it would be the height of folly to use humans as a client race.

“They will never understand the natural submission of the weaker to the stronger. It is not, as we had assumed, evidence of knowingly dishonorable conduct on their part, either. It’s simply the way their minds work. Instead of submitting
to
the stronger, they will work unceasingly to
become
the stronger, and not for the purpose of assuming leadership of the pack. Some of them, yes, will react very like we Shongairi might. Others may react in fashions which approach the pseudo-submission of a weed-eater. Still others may very well seek to
feign
submission. But most will see the function of strength as the protection of their primary loyalty group. They will focus their energy on destroying any and all threats to it, even when attempting to destroy the threat
in itself
risks destruction of the group, and they will
never
forget or forgive a threat to that which they protect. They will see the infliction of losses, especially within their own primary family loyalty groups, not as a reasonable demonstration of the reasons for submission to their superiors, but as an unforgivable act. As an offense which must be
avenged,
not as a demonstration which must be accepted.

“Sir, we might be able to enforce temporary obedience, and it’s possible we could actually convince many of them to accept us as their natural masters. As I say, they have many societal and cultural templates, and some of them may prove more amenable than others. Yet we will never convince
all
of them of that, and my judgment, based on what I’ve already determined about their fundamental psychology, is that in the fullness of time
that same hardwired loyalty to the family above all will reemerge in the children or grandchildren even of those who might themselves genuinely submit to us. And so, even if we ultimately succeed in compelling them to yield, they will never—
can
never—truly surrender. And if we attempt to use whatever quirk in their makeup empowers their insane inventiveness, it will only mean we’ll eventually find our ‘clients’ turning upon us with all the inventiveness and ferocity we’ve observed out of them here, but with all our own technological capabilities . . . as a
starting
point.”

•  •  •  •  •

“It would appear,” Thikair told his senior officers, “that my approach to this planet was not the most brilliant accomplishment of my career.”

They looked back at him, most still obviously bemused by Shairez’s report. None of them, he reflected, had reacted to it any better than
he
had.

“Clearly,” he continued, “it’s necessary to reevaluate our policy—
my
policy—in light of the Ground Base Commander’s discoveries. And, frankly, in light of our already severe operational losses.

“Our efforts to date to compel the humans to submit have killed somewhere over half the original planetary population and cost us massive losses of our own. Ground Force Commander Thairys’ current estimate is that if we continue operations for one local year, we will have lost three-quarters of his personnel and in excess of
ninety percent
of his original combat and support ground vehicles. In that same time period, we will have killed over half the
remaining
humans. It seems evident that even if Ground Base Commander Shairez’s model is in error, we cannot sustain losses at that level. Nor, assuming her model is as accurate and insightful as her previous work has always been, would we dare risk providing such a . . . recalcitrant species with access to modern technology after killing more than nine in twelve of them first.”

There was silence in the conference room as he surveyed their faces.

“The time has come to cut our losses,” he said flatly. “I’m not prepared to give up this planet, not after the price we’ve already paid for it. But at the same time, I’ve concluded that humans are too dangerous. Indeed, faced with what we’ve discovered here—which amply confirms the Council’s reaction to the initial survey reports—I believe many of the Hegemony’s other races would share that conclusion! Certainly it’s clear Vice-Speaker Koomaatkia would, and in this instance I feel confident the Kreptu’s reaction would be shared fully by the Garm, the Howsanth, the Traighor, and
the Cherail. For that matter, even the Barthoni and the Liatu would feel nothing but relief if . . . something were to happen to the humans, whatever their official, sanctimonious position might be.”

He looked around the table once more, watching understanding struggle with the aftershocks of Shairez’s astounding report, then drew a deep breath.

“I’ve decided to implement our backup strategy and develop a targeted bioweapon,” he said even more flatly. “There are obvious potential consequences to such a decision on my part. Despite the fact that the Barthoni and Liatu are obviously horrified by what they know of humans, the ‘progressives’ among them already hate and despise
us,
as well. There will be great pressure upon their political leaders to ‘take a stand’ against this fresh evidence of Shongair ‘murderousness.’ We’ve all had enough experience with their enlightened views to know
that
much!”

He half bared a canine in a derisive challenge grin, and one or two of his senior officers actually chuckled.

“At the same time, however,” he continued, “those same political leaders will in fact be deeply relieved that someone else has removed the threat these humans might ultimately prove. And I feel confident that if any of them press the Council too hard, the more . . . pragmatic Council members, like Vice-Speaker Koomaatkia, will seek to dissuade them. Especially if the Emperor should hint that he’s prepared to make public certain recordings of conversations between Koomaatkia and Minister for Colonization Vairtha. Under the circumstances, I very much doubt our critics—on the Council, at least—would care to have their sanctimonious hypocrisy exposed so long as we can provide them with even the most threadbare of excuses to simply accept whatever happens here.

“Accordingly, I’ve decided it would be as well for us to establish as clearly as possible that the release of our bioweapon was completely ‘accidental’ and no part of any deliberate policy to exterminate this pestiferous species. That will provide those hypocrites with the cover they need to avoid asking any inconvenient questions which might inadvertently unmask their own sanctimony in allowing—no,
encouraging
—us to conquer the humans in the first place. Which is why I’ve determined the research will be conducted in your ground base, Ground Base Commander Teraik.”

Thikair turned and looked directly at the officer in command of Ground Base Two Alpha. Teraik looked back alertly, but it was clear he was a bit perplexed by the logic behind Thikair’s choice of his base.

“I have three primary reasons for that decision,” Thikair explained, still gazing into Teraik’s eyes. “First, I have complete faith in your capabilities. Second, your base’s ZOR comes closest to any of our zones here in North America to having been suitably pacified. Third, we will be able to point out to any ‘impartial investigators’ the Council might assign to this case that because we were forced to put your base’s facilities together out of whatever was left over from the original Ground Base Two’s destruction, your equipment was, perhaps, in less than perfect condition and so more prone to ‘accidental failure.’”

Teraik’s ears flicked in acknowledgment, but he still looked a little unsure, and Thikair drew an unobtrusive breath.

“I realize your zone isn’t truly pacified,” he said, managing to keep himself from sounding overly patient with a slightly slow subordinate. “Nonetheless, you’ve established at least the skeleton of a proper relationship with the local ruler—with ‘Governor Howell,’ I believe he’s called. It ought to be possible with only minor editing of our reports to make it clear that he’s been earnestly and loyally cooperating with us for the last two local months.

“Of course, I’ve reviewed his ‘submission’ in light of Ground Base Commander Shairez’s discoveries, and it now seems clear that his apparent cooperation has in fact been the result of a
feigned
submission. It has undoubtedly given him access to a great deal of information no other human spy could have obtained, not to mention offering him still other advantages. Indeed, several things which had been puzzling me become much clearer looked at from that perspective. For example, I believe I now understand why decisions which worked to the benefit of the humans in his area of authority were always implemented so much more speedily and efficiently than decisions which worked to
our
benefit in the same area.” Thikair’s ears smiled grimly. “With my vision now cleared by the Ground Base Commander’s findings, it seems painfully evident to me that one of the reasons he chose to ‘submit’ in the first place was to insinuate himself into our confidence, put himself into a position to achieve exactly that sort of manipulation and interference. Indeed, Ground Base Commander Shairez has pointed out to me that there is actually a specific human word—‘sabotage’—which undoubtedly sums up his true motivation for appearing so helpful to us.”

Several of the officers around the table bared gleaming canines at the thought of such dishonorable behavior, but Thikair raised a restraining hand.

“I share your disgust at such actions,” he assured them, “but bear in
mind that from his perspective, they were
not
dishonorable. I realize no Shongair will ever truly be able to understand such a warped view of the universe, yet that doesn’t make it untrue. Despite that, I naturally share your desire to punish him as fully as his actions deserve under
our
code of honor. Unfortunately, since my objective in selecting Ground Base Two Alpha as the site for our ‘accident’ is to allow us to argue that we would never intentionally have attacked the one area on the entire planet where our pacification program was clearly working, I can scarcely order the local native ruler executed for treachery and his body parts distributed to our officers’ messes, however much he might deserve it. It would undermine too much of our cover story’s believability.”

Some of his officers still appeared disgruntled, and he didn’t blame them a bit. He didn’t rebuke them, either. In fact, his ears rose in a slow, gloating smile.

“Oh, no,” he told them softly. “It would
never
do to execute him for his treachery. On the other hand, Ground Base Commander Shairez tells us that these creatures’ primary loyalty is to their own family groups. That being so, I see no reason our bioweapon couldn’t be ‘accidentally released’ in his home first.”

“Move it!
Move
it! Damn it, Vanya—
move it
!”

Pieter Ushakov had no idea how he’d found the breath to shout at Ivan Kolesnikov. A corner of his brain reflected that he shouldn’t be able to—no one running as hard as
he
was running was supposed to have breath for anything but panting.

Of course, he’d discovered over the past months that enough adrenaline could overcome almost anything.

Another explosion thundered, and that corner of his brain which was still thinking instead of concentrating on dodging the next tree and not falling over his own feet cringed. The explosions were coming closer, and another thing he’d discovered was that whatever their other weaknesses, the Shongairi were no slouches when it came to laying in mortar fire. Their weapons were long-ranged, powerful, and accurate. They seemed to fire a little more slowly than their human counterparts, but they made up for it with an enviable assortment of ammunition. So far he’d encountered or observed at least two different high-explosive variants, incendiary rounds, smoke, one that deployed really
nasty
antipersonnel submunitions, and another which dispensed what looked (judging from the condition of the corpses) like a quick-acting and effective neurotoxin.

Fortunately, they didn’t seem to have a lot of the latter. Either that, or they had to get release from higher command authority before they used it. On the other hand, it was obvious they had no shortage of HE.

Another salvo came scorching in, and he heard a cut-off shriek from his left rear. He grabbed a tree trunk, slingshotting himself around to face back the way he’d come and stabbing a look towards the source of the scream. He blinked sweat from his eyes, then grunted and hurled himself back into motion after Kolesnikov. There wasn’t enough left of the man who’d screamed for him to be certain who it was, but he thought it was Chashnikov, one of the Russians who’d joined them week before last. It
didn’t really matter—whoever the poor bastard
had
been, he was dead now—but Ushakov felt a stab of shame as he realized how relieved he was to know he wasn’t going to have to go back and try to get a wounded man to safety, after all.

Funny, that observer corner of his mind reflected. So much of him just wanted to let go and die, try to catch up with Vladislava and the children, but another stubborn part of him insisted on going on surviving.

Can’t kill the weasels if you’re dead,
he told himself.
Which is a pretty good reason to run
faster,
you idiot!